Maybe This Time
by writingrox12
Summary: He's always there for her, and he always will be. Puckleberry Future Fic. Now multiple chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Not so sure where I got this idea. It's actually got substance, unlike my other Puckleberry fics, so we shall see where/how it goes, eh? Depending on the response, this could turn into more than a one shot, but we shall see.

There's the familiar tune of 'Sweet Caroline' playing somewhere in the distance, and he's trying to ignore it. But it keeps playing, and now there's a buzzing noise to go along with it. When he opens his eyes groggily, he realizes that it's his cell phone, and it's his ringtone for when a certain person calls him, even if she is waking him up from a nap.

He sits up and grabs his phone, flipping it open. "Hello?" he says.

"Did I wake you?" she responds, and her voice his hoarse like she's been crying or screaming. Or, as he would come to figure out later, both.

"What's wrong?" he asks, standing up and gearing to kick some serious ass.

He hears her sob and sniffle.

"I'm coming over." He says, pulling a pair of jeans on.

"I kicked him out." She says meekly, and that makes him freeze. He never expected those words to come out of her mouth.

"I'll be right there, Rachel." He says.

"Okay." She whispers, and he hears the sound of her hanging up the phone.

He flies through the motions of getting dressed and finding his car keys. He practically rips his door off its hinges in his hurry to get outside. Her condo isn't far from his apartment, but he still wants to, needs to, be there for her and quickly. Doing the speed limit, he can make it to her house in ten minutes. Doing twenty above the speed limit and rolling through any stop signs, he makes it there in three.

He doesn't knock, because they never knock, and instead, lets himself in. He barely makes it through the door before she jumps him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He holds her close and he feels her small body shaking with sobs as her tears soak through his t-shirt.

"Shh, shh, I'm here. It's okay."

She doesn't speak, instead she's just crying, burying her face in his neck. He rubs her back softly with one hand, and holds her against him in a death grip with the other. He can feel her silky robe beneath his hands and he hopes that she's clothed underneath.

"What happened?" he asks when her sobs subside slightly.

She doesn't answer at first, but after a few seconds, she pulls away from him and what he sees makes his blood boil.

Her bottom lip is split open on the right side, and her right eye is swollen and he can already see a bruise forming.

"He fucking hit you?" he shouts. He moves to leave, to go find the fuckface, but she grabs his shirt.

"Noah, please!" she cries. "Don't!"

"He hit you, Rachel!" he shouts, his heart pounding so fast that he's surprised he's not having a heart attack.

"I know." She says, nodding, holding his shirt tighter. "I just…I need you here." She chokes as more sobs threaten to escape.

He stares at her for a second before pulling her back into his arms, smoothing her hair down and kissing the side of her head. "I'm here." He says gently. "I'm here, Rachel."

"Thank you." She whispers, clinging to him for dear life.

He picks her up and she wraps her legs around him as he walks through her large home to the living room, housing the gigantic entertainment center. "Where's Funny Girl?" he whispers.

"In the player." She responds as he puts her down on the massive, comfortable couch.

He walks away and turns on the television set, speakers, and DVD player. He presses play and the musical that he's seen too many times to count starts.

He sits down next to her and pulls her against his side, and she wraps her arms around him, her head on his shoulder. He can't even pay attention to the musical that Rachel loves so much because he's so pissed off about what's happened.

It's been ten years since they graduated from McKinley, and though it was hard, Rachel did her best to keep in touch with everyone from Glee. Because of her, Puck is friends with pretty much everyone still. He knows where almost everyone is headed right now. But to be honest, the one he cares about most is sitting on this couch next to him.

Rachel's getting everything she wants out of life, as far as a career goes. She's in her seventh consecutive year of being a Broadway star, starring in Les Miserebles, Cabaret, Funny Girl, and even some smaller, less popular musicals. It was he and Rachel who stayed closest, which nobody expected.

But now that he's sitting next to her in her condo, on her six thousand dollar couch, watching Funny Girl on her…he doesn't even want to know how many thousand dollar entertainment center, he doesn't care about why or how they stayed in touch. He just wants to beat the fuck out of Jeremy Johnston.

Jeremy Johnston was this years fucking Justin Timberlake. Or worse. He already had multiple movies under his belt, and was currently working on another one. Puck hates the stupid fucker, and he always has since Rachel met him five years ago. Puck thinks he's an arrogant, spoon fed, dip shit, and that he's rude, even to Rachel. Three years ago, when Rachel and Jeremy declared their relationship official two the public, Puck was sure wedding bells weren't far off. But for some reason, Rachel always seemed to be putting it off. He guesses now he knows why.

When the credits start rolling, Rachel sits up and wipes her tears away. "That masterpiece always gets me." She says with a sigh.

He sits up as she opens her mouth to once again comment about how much she loved Barbara Streisand's performance (which she always does after watching it), but before she can speak, her gently grabs her jaw and turns her to look him in the eye. He can smell her fruity breath.

"Rachel." He says sternly, his eyes boring into hers. "What. Happened." He says slowly, making it barely sound like a question. He supposes it's more of a demand.

She stares at him for a moment before pouting slightly and turning away, avoiding his gaze.

"We were…spending the day together when he got an e-mail on his lap top. He got up, read it, and went upstairs. And then his cell phone rang…so I answered it, not thinking it would be a big deal." She says quietly, and her voice is shaky, but he can still understand her.

"It was a woman and she said…she said that Jeremy was about to tell me he had to go to an emergency rehearsal but that he was actually going to meet Danielle to…have sex with her in my car. And then he came back down stairs and said how Will, the director, called for an emergency rehearsal." She says, and he can tell she's approaching tears again, so he rubs her back gently.

"So I asked who Danielle was." She says and she turns around to face him. "And do you know what he said to me then?" she asks rhetorically. He puts his hand on her knee in response. "He said…'Danielle is some girl I'm…" her eyes close and she looks down, and when she speaks the next few words, he can hear the anguish in them. " 'Some girl I'm fucking on the side.' He said it so blatantly and so casually! So we were fighting and screaming and he called me a frigid tease that wouldn't put out. So I told him he was a horny, cheating ass hole and he…he backhanded me."

Puck's fist flexes and his jaw tightens. "Then what?"

"That's just my eye." She says. "I screamed at him after he did it and then he…he slapped me…and I bit my lip." She says meekly.

He sits back, rubbing his hands over his head. "And then you kicked him out?"

"I told him to get out or I'd call you. He's scared of you." She says, and she almost sounds proud. "So he packed a bag and walked out." She says, sniffing and wiping her tears away.

He gently grabs her chin and turns her face towards him again, inspecting her lip which has dried blood on it, and her swollen eye, which looks worse now that it's been sitting for a couple of hours. "I'll fucking kill him." He whispers.

"No, no, no." she breathes, shaking her head slightly. "You can't. You can't touch him, Noah." She says.

"He hurt you." He growls.

"I know, but you- he'll have you arrested." She pouts, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "And I can't have that." She says. "I need you."

He stares at her for a moment before he pulls her towards him again. "You can't let him get away with it, Rachel. He hit you twice. Twice." He emphasizes.

"Can we just not talk about this?" she asks quietly.

He doesn't think she realizes how hard it is for him to just be sitting here while the fucking douche bag who fucked up her beautiful face is just walking around like everything is hunky-dory.

"Later, then." He whispers before he pulls her up so she's straddling his lap. He strokes her back while she nuzzles into his neck, taking deep breaths to try and relax herself.

"Thank you." She responds, wrapping her arms around his neck.

This might look weird, but it's normal for him and Rachel at this point. Whenever one of them is having a problem, they watched their favorite movie (Hers was Funny Girl, his was The Hangover), and then they cuddled, usually until Rachel fell asleep, because at that point, he'd just lay her down in her bed, or his bed depending on whose home they were in.

"Distract me, please."

"_Hey, Jude, don't make it bad,_

_Take a sad song and make it better,_

_Remember to let her into your heart,_

_Then you can start to make it better."_

He begins singing without even thinking about it. It's the only way he knows how to distract her. He's singing quietly to her because her ear is only inches away, and he doesn't need to be loud to sound good. He's still got it.

And when she starts singing along and harmonizing with him, he knows he's done a good job. They're on the third verse when someone disrupts them.

"What the hell is this?" a disgustingly familiar voice says angrily, causing Rachel to sit up in Puck's lap.

He cranes his neck to see Jeremy fucking Johnston standing there.

"I told you to leave." Rachel snaps. Puck stands, setting her to her feet and then turning to face Jeremy, his heart racing as he forces himself not to leap over the couch and screw up Jeremy's pretty face.

"I need my bathroom stuff. I didn't know I'd interrupt you screwing around. And you had the gall to call me a cheater?" Jeremy says. "While you have a thing on the side with a loser from your high school days?"

Puck takes a deep breath. He doesn't want to do anything rash because of Rachel, but if she even gives the smallest hint of 'go' sign, he's going to pummel Jeremy until you can't recognize him.

"Noah and I are not screwing around, he's my friend!" Rachel spits. "I don't have to explain myself to you! Even if you came in with him bending me over the coffee table, you'd have no room to talk!"

The image in Puck's head distracts him for a minute, but he focuses again…with difficulty.

"This is bullshit, Rachel." Jeremy says, taking a few steps towards them, moving around the couch.

Puck moves so that he's in front of Rachel once more, and he takes a few steps closer to Jeremy. "Get the fuck out." He snarls.

"This is my condo." Jeremy responds.

"It is most certainly not! You have never paid a penny. Get out. Now!" Rachel orders from behind Puck.

"Rache-"

"Either get the fuck out or I'll make what you did to her look like a make up trick." Puck snaps, his fists clenching.

Jeremy stands there for a moment, trying to figure out if Puck is serious, before he shrugs.

"Whatever. She's so not even worth it." He shrugs.

Puck doesn't even mean to lay him out, but at least he doesn't climb on top and keep going like he wants too.

"Fucker!" Jeremy shouts from the floor.

"Noah!" Rachel gasps, grabbing his arm.

"I'm shooting tomorrow, ass hole!" Jeremy shouts as he stands up.

"Like I care. Get the fuck out." He snaps.

Jeremy leaves, forgetting all about his bathroom stuff, and it's then that Puck notices his throbbing knuckles. "Fuck." He mutters, flexing his fist.

"He'll press charges, Puckerman!" Rachel says, her arms crossed over her chest. He knows she's pissed because she didn't call him Noah.

"So? I'll say it was self defense." He shrugs. "I could kill him. Then he won't be pressin' anything." He winces, wiggling his fingers.

"Ugh, come here." She rolls her eyes as she grabs his other wrist and leads him into the kitchen. He watches as she puts some ice in a plastic baggy and then puts the baggy in a small, cloth bag. He's sitting on a bar stool and she walks up, taking his right hand as she stands between his legs and gently puts the ice on his throbbing knuckles.

"I couldn't not punch him, Rachel." He says quietly.

She's staring at his hand. "I know." She responds. "I don't know why I thought it would work if I asked you not too. You lasted longer than I thought you would." She says.

"I really care about you. And he hurt you." He says, his eyes watching her face.

She looks up at him with her big brown eyes and then she leans forward, gently pressing her lips to his cheek. "Thank you for always being here for me." She whispers, resting her forehead against his.

He discards the bag of ice on the table and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Always, Rachel. I mean that." He whispers before kissing her temple and then enveloping her in his embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

He stays with her that night, and despite what he says, she makes him sleep in her bed. It's not that big of a deal, they've slept together (in the most literal sense of the word) before, but this time, she practically glues herself to him for the night. But she smells like vanilla, and he knows she needs this, so he doesn't mind. Even when he wakes up at three AM because she's kneading at his chest like a cat, though she's still dead asleep.

The next morning, her side of the bed is empty when he wakes up and he stands, looking around the bedroom that is bigger than his living room and kitchen combined in the rinky-dink apartment he lives in. He loves his job as a mechanic, don't get him wrong, but he sometimes wishes he'd gone for it with singing. He knows he's good. He just doesn't know why he never tried to go anywhere with it.

He's interrupted from his thoughts by the smell of bacon, and his stomach growls, commanding him to follow the scent into Rachel's kitchen, where she is standing in a pair of jeans and a sweater, with an apron around her waist. She has her back to him and she is humming absentmindedly as she fries up some bacon, which he didn't even think she ate.

"Morning," he says as he walks deeper into the kitchen, squeezing her shoulder gently, before hopping up on the counter near the stove. "I thought you didn't eat bacon?" he asks.

"No, but you do. It's Jeremy's, and he's not coming back to get it any time soon." She shrugs.

"I'd be happy to eat Jeremy's bacon." He says.

She smiles at him for a moment before flipping the strips of meat. "I actually got off the phone with him not too long ago." She says carefully.

"Why?" he asks, his eyes narrowing.

"I told him that if he presses charges against you, I'll go straight to E! with what he did to me. He figures it's more important that his reputation his upheld than to see you go to jail for assault." She says.

"I woulda liked to keep punching." He says after a few minutes.

She turns the heat off and slides the bacon onto a plate layered with paper towels. "I know." She says, not looking at him.

"Let me see your face." He asks, hopping down to the floor and walking towards her. She sighs but puts the pan and spatula down and turns to him.

He reaches up and gently holds her face in his hand. Her eye brow is ugly, purple, and swollen, and it looks like it hurts like a bitch. But at least it's not swollen shut, he supposes. Her lip has also bruised, but she's cleaned the cut out at this point at least. He shakes his head.

"Fucker." He mutters.

"It's really not so bad." Rachel responds, reaching up and placing her hand on his.

"I don't care how bad it is, he still fuckin' hit you, Rachel." He growls.

"I know that, Noah. And I kicked him out because of it. I don't have plans for us to get back together at all, I'm not one of those girls." She says, shaking her head.

"Damn right. Because I'd kill him if he ever laid hands on you again." He says, rubbing her cheek softly with his thumb.

She smiles slightly. "I'd let you."

He smiles back and for a second, they just stand there like that. With his hand on her face, her hand on top of his, so close that he can feel her breath on his lips. But then she looks away and mutters about his bacon getting cold and he tries his hardest to ignore the fact that standing with her like that, he really just wanted to kiss her. Because she's Rachel Berry, a girl he's known since he was sixteen, and they're best friends, and you don't kiss your best friends.

He makes himself a BLT and watches in disgust as she eats some fake form of sausage with toast. In high school, her whole vegan thing was kinda wishy-washy, but now she's a straight up vegan. He'll never understand it.

"Do you have to work today?" she asks as they sit across from each other at the dining room table, eating their breakfast.

"Nope." He says. "What about you?" he asks.

"I cancelled my rehearsal." She says, avoiding his eyes.

"You're not just gonna let him get away with hitting you, are you?" he asks.

She sighs. "Noah…It's complicated. His career could be in serious jeopardy if I-"

"Fuck his career!" he shouts, standing up so fast that the chair falls to the floor. She jumps and looks up at him, her eyes wide. "He hit you, Rachel! TWICE! You don't think he deserves some punishment?" he asks.

"I think you saw to that last night, don't you?" she sighs.

He stands there for a minute and shrugs. "Okay. If you want me to see to it, I'll be right back." He says as he turns to walk away.

"Noah, no!" she shouts, but he ignores her completely, headed for the front door.

She runs by him into the foyer, and when he gets there, she's leaning against the door with her arms out wide. "Stop!" she orders, but he continues walking until he's right on top of her, their noses brushing as he looks down at her.

"You're Rachel fucking Berry. You'll fight to the death for a solo you think you deserve. But you won't stand up to a fucking douche bag that hits you in your own home? What the fuck is that, Rachel?" he asks quietly.

"I don't want to be with him. In fact, I'd like to never speak to or see him again, but…I still care about him, Noah. And I don't want to abolish his career over something this small." She says.

"Small? You think this is small? What's big? If he shoves you down the stairs, or breaks one of your bones?" he asks, his blood boiling. "You can't let him get away with this, Rachel."

"I don't want people to know that I was with someone who could do that." She says, and her eyes are wet.

He blinks. "What?"

"I…I don't want…people to know that I let myself get into a relationship with someone who would be abusive. People look up to me, Noah. I don't want them to think I'm the type of woman who gets herself into these types of things." And she looks so sad and pathetic when she says it, that he wraps her in his embrace.

"It's not your fault, Rachel." He whispers into her hair.

"But it is, Noah." She whimpers. "I let him do it."

"No, Rachel, you didn't let-"

"It wasn't the first time."

He freezes, his eyes glued to a spot on her door as he digests what she just said. _It wasn't the first time_. The words echo in his brain. _It wasn't the first time._

"Rachel." He says, trying his hardest not to lose his shit. "What…the fuck…do you mean…it wasn't the first time?"

She sniffs and he pushes her back to look into her eyes, and he sees that she's crying again. She has cried way too much the last twenty-four hours. He hates it when she cries.

"Do…do you remember when…you went to Lima for a week because your mom needed help because of her ankle?" she asks, sniffling.

He remembers. Three months ago, his mother had fractured her ankle and was told to go on bed rest for at least a week, so he'd gone to help out with household stuff because his sister was on a special trip that she'd won. "Yes." He says.

"He came home really late from a party…o-or something." She says. "And I was upset that he was so late without calling, so…so when he finally came in, I asked him where he'd been and he got mad that I was suffocating him, so I told him to go fuck himself for the night…And then he hit me." She says, her eyes closing. "Just once, and it wasn't this hard. It…It didn't even bruise."

"Like that fucking makes it okay?" he asks, his eyes wide.

"No! No, no, that's not what I meant! It's not okay, it wasn't okay, I kn-"

"Then why the hell didn't you kick him out then?" he asks, letting her go and letting his hands fall to his sides.

She bites her lip. "I was scared." She shrugs.

"But not yesterday?" he asks.

"You were only ten minutes away yesterday…last time it was ten hours." She says quietly.

He stands there, frozen once more. She didn't kick him out the first time…because he wasn't there for her. He doesn't even know what to say.

"And then the next day, he apologized and said how out of line he was, and how sorry he was, and how he loved me, and he gave me daisies and daisies are-"

"Your favorite flower. I know." He says gruffly.

She stands there quietly, watching him. It's silent for a minute until she takes a shaky breath. "Say something." She whispers.

"You have no idea how badly I want to go fuck his day up." He says. "It's my fault this happened a second time. If I'd been hear the first time, you wouldn't have been scared, and you would have-"

"Shut up, Noah!" she says loudly, surprising him. "It is not your fault. Not even close. I was stupid enough to believe that he wouldn't do it again, I became one of those women who…who listen to and believe the apologies." She says.

"Right, but if I'd been there for you, you would have kicked him out and called me then. Then he wouldn't-"

She grabs his face and forces him to look down at her. "Stop it." She says sternly. "It isn't your fault, Noah." She says. "Yesterday was just a ticking time bomb." She shrugs. "It's been clear for months now that he wasn't…satisfied with our physical relationship…or, lack thereof." She sighs, letting her hands slide down to his chest.

He puts his hands on top of hers. "That's no excuse for what he did, or was doing, with Danielle." He says. He smiles slightly, and puts a finger underneath her chin so she'll look at him. "If you were mine, I'd be happy no matter what."

And she smiles just a little hint of a smile, but it's enough for him. He leans forward and kisses her forehead softly. Before stepping back to give her space, and also to clear the cloudy haze that her vanilla body wash has just created in his brain.

"Will you stay with me for a little while?" she asks.

"All day." He shrugs.

"No, I mean…stay here. With me. You can have the guest bedroom." She shrugs. "I would feel better." She nods. "I mean, knowing Jeremy, he'll make multiple attempts to get me back, and I'll feel safer with you here, one step behind me in case things get…out of hand." She says, carefully choosing her words.

He watches her, looking up at him with her big brown eyes, and long eye lashes, and pouty lips, and he couldn't say no even if he wanted to. Living with Rachel couldn't be that hard, could it?

"Sure." He shrugs. "You've got too much damn room anyways." He smiles.

She 'eeps' and throws her arms around his neck. "This is going to be so much fun!" she grins, clapping her hands together when she backs up to let him breathe.

He grins and nods in agreement.

It's about a week and a half later when he's finally all settled into her condo, in the guest room that is down the hall from hers.

She walks into his room as he finishes putting the last of his clothes in the closet and grins at him. His eyes can't help but travel down the miles of long legs sticking out of her little denim shorts.

"This is going to be great, Noah." She grins.

"Yeah." He nods, sitting down on the bed. She frowns.

"What's wrong? You seem…irritated."

He shakes his head. "Just these fuckin' photographers, takin' all sorts of pictures while I was unloading. Like I'm a fuckin' freak show." He grumbles.

"Ugh, they're awful, aren't they? Don't be surprised if there are rumors circulating about you…banging Jeremy Johnston's Broadway Babe." She mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. He snorts. "What?" she asks.

"Broadway Babe?"

"That's what some magazines call me! Granted, it's the idiotic, lacking in culture tabloids, but still, it does get kind of annoying." She huffs.

He snickers, and she doesn't like that.

"It's not funny, Noah! It's degrading!"

"It's true though. You are kind of a babe, Rachel." He smirks, leaning back on his elbow.

She blushes. "That aside, there are better ways to compliment my appearance." She nods.

"I agree. Babe is way beneath you." He nods. "You're beautiful." He tells her.

Wait, hold on…what?

He knows Rachel is smokin' hot, but he's never told her she's beautiful. She blushes again. "Thanks." She smiles.

"Heard from Jeremy lately?" he asks her, just to change the subject.

"I got flowers delivered to me yesterday, but I threw them out. He called a little while after, but I ignored it. I don't want to speak to him." She says as she comes in and sits next to him on the bed. He sits up. "I think you being here is holding him back slightly." She says.

"Good." He nods, putting his hand on her leg gently, to reassure her that she was going to be okay, that he was going to take care of her. She looks at him, her big brown eyes boring into his hazel green ones.

"I'm really glad you're here, Noah." She says.

"Don't worry about it, Rachel." He responds. "I'm not gonna let him hurt you again." He nods.

She leans towards him, putting her chin on his shoulder, looking up at him. "I love that I believe you." She smiles.

He turns his head and looks down at her. "I'm glad you do."

And there it is again. Something in him is telling him to kiss her. And God, does he want to. He reaches up, pushing her hair out of her face, because it always tries to block her pretty brown eyes. When his finger touches her skin, her eyes flutter for a moment.

"Rachel…" he whispers.

"Yeah?" she asks, her voice weak.

"I want to-"

There's a loud, obnoxious ringing coming from the nightstand next to the bed and it causes he and Rachel to both jump in surprise. She stands and smoothes her shorts down as he reaches for his cell phone.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Hey, bossman, the Fratelli kid crashed his car, and his dad is totally wigging out about how much we charge to repair the transmission, fender, li-"

"I'll be right there, Nick." He says into the phone. He flips it shut and stands up.

"Problem?" she asks.

"Some dad at the shop is apparently throwing a fit about the prices. I gotta go help. Nick's got great mechanic skills, but he has no backbone."

"Oh. Alright." She nods. "Denise wants to have lunch today anyways, so I've got to get ready for that." She says, and he notices that her cheeks are red.

"Denise?" he asks.

"Oh, she's sort of my agent." She responds.

He nods as he digs through his drawer to find the navy blue shirt with his name printed across the pocket. He feels like a janitor every time he wears it, but the owner forces them to, and he's not about to pick a fight with the owner when he's two steps away from becoming the manager.

"Alright then, I'll see you later." He nods.

"Good luck with the wigging out father." She says with a smile before darting out of his room.

Holy fuck. He wanted to kiss her. He almost did. He runs his fingers through his cropped hair, and then sighs, grabbing his phone and his keys. He can't be kissing Rachel, he knows that. If things got messy and he lost her friendship, he doesn't know what he'd do. And he doesn't care how completely gay that sounds.

He stays at work longer than planned, but the dad that's freaking out listens to him in a heart beat. That might have something to do with the fact that this guy is a five foot four, and Puck's a hefty six feet tall.

Puck stays mostly because working on these cars while blaring music takes out his frustration, and clears his head, which he needs. He doesn't know what the hell he was thinking when he almost told Rachel he wanted to kiss her. What would she have said? She was sort of looking like she wanted him to, especially when he touched her cheek.

Whatever. It doesn't matter now. The moment's passed, and he will not be kissing Rachel Berry. They were done with that whole thing in high school.

Well, there was that one time where they made out in Matt's room at Matt's grad party, and he so would have felt her up had Matt not needed his room to fool around with one of the Cheerios.

But that was then, this is now. And he will not be kissing Rachel Berry _again_.

When he gets back to Rachel's that night, he is greasy and sweaty and in desperate need of a shower. It's past eleven, so he figures that Rachel is sleeping, so he'll make sure to be quiet. He grabs a towel from the closet next to the bathroom as he heads towards his room to take his greasy clothes off. He drops them in a heap on the floor and then wraps the towel around his waist before walking back down the hall way.

He turns the corner to go into the bathroom just as a very wet Rachel Berry turns to do the opposite, causing her to scream as she collides into him.

"Noah!" she gasps, upon realizing that it's him. Her hand is splayed out on his chest, her palm brushing against his nipple ring. He's got one arm halfway around her waist to keep her from falling backwards, which was where she was going before he grabbed her wrist as well.

He tries really, really hard to ignore the fact that they're standing in the bathroom doorway, both pretty much naked. Her hair is wet, hanging in her face slightly, and he can still see some moisture on her body.

"You're home." She states.

"Yeah…I…I stayed till close." He nods.

"Oh." She says in understanding.

He swallows. "Yeah."

Part of him is screaming to let go of her, the other part is telling him to kiss her until their lips fall off. It's then that he watches a water droplet fall from her hair to her collar bone, and then slide down into the valley between her breasts, and before he can help it, he's picturing following the little drop of water with his tongue.

It's then that he realizes it's in their best interest if he lets her go now. Like, right now.

He releases her wrist and pulls his arm back to his side, stepping back slightly. She also takes a step back, but now they're both headed in the opposite direction that they were intending, so he takes a small step to the side to move around her. Only problem is, she goes in the same direction at the same time, causing them to bump into each other again.

She giggles and he can't help but smile at the situation.

"I think the fates want us to make contact with each other before you wash off that God-awful oil smell." She smiles up at him.

"Apparently." He says with a chuckle.

Who is he to argue with the fates?

He leans down, pushing some wet hair off her cheek before he cups it gently and presses his lips to hers. He doesn't think it's what she meant by 'make contact', but he doesn't care because he needs to kiss her, and he's afraid he's going to explode if he doesn't.

She's surprised at first but after a second, she kisses him back, putting her hands on his bare chest. He pulls her closer, placing his hand on the small of her back. Her hands slide from his chest to around his neck, sliding her tongue between his lips. He's surprised by how forward she is, but he doesn't object.

And neither does she when he backs her up against the bathroom counter, pushing their bodies closer together. He doesn't realize that his towel is slipping and he doesn't think to check, because with her pressed against him like this, nothing else matters. She whimpers slightly when his hands slide down her back and to her ass, so he pulls her lower half against his, making them both groan.

"No! No, no, no, we shouldn't be doing this!" Rachel gasps suddenly, pushing him backwards.

Without being pinned against her body, his towel falls to the ground around him, revealing his lower half and obvious arousal.

"Oh my gosh!" Rachel gasps, one hand flying up to cover her eyes while the other hand hold her towel in place.

He reaches down and grabs his towel, putting it back around his waist even though the damage has already been done. She peeks out from behind her hand and seems relieved upon seeing that he is covered, but her cheeks are still bright red.

"I think I'll go." She nods.

"Yeah…I gotta shower." He says.

And then she disappears out of the bathroom and down the hall towards her room. He wants to know how many times he has to bash his head into the mirror before it kills him.

So much for never kissing Rachel Berry again.

* * *

-sigh- I'm not sure how I'm liking my first attempt at a multi-chapter Puckleberry fic. I'll definitely be upping the rating though, because I don't think Puck and Rachel can NOT have sex in one of my fics. It just doesn't work.

Comments? I don't know how I feel about this.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, he's wondering what she's going to say during breakfast. If she says anything at all about what happened the night before that is. He tries to feel the correct emotion: regret? Embarrassment? Should he feel ashamed? Well, either way, he doesn't. He can only smirk every time he remembers the way her eyes traveled right down to his exposed dick, and then he chuckles when he recalls how embarrassed she was afterwards.

Oh well. Time to face reality.

He walks out of his room and down the hallway towards the living room and kitchen, and he can smell something that smells really, really delicious. When he gets to the kitchen, he sees her standing by the stove, making home fries.

"Mmm, smells great." He says.

She nods and smiles. "Thank you." She says, and he has to chuckle at how she is avoiding his eyes. Well, she has to look at him sometime.

She's also making toast, and she even offers to make him one of Jeremy's eggs, but he declines, never having been a fan of eggs. When they're sitting at the table eating, she's so fucking silent that it's killing him.

But before he can comment, she beats him to the punch.

"Look, Noah, about last night-"

"Stop." He says. "Rachel, it's not a big deal." He shrugs. "We were kissing while wearing towels, we probably should have seen it coming." He says. He's right. What more should they have expected?

"Oh. So…you're not…upset?" she asks carefully.

He snorts. "No. Why would I be upset?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. Well…I guess because…If my towel had fallen, I'd be completely humiliated right now." She says, and she blushes a bit.

"I'm not ashamed of my body." He smirks when she rolls her eyes. "You shouldn't be either." He smiles. "You know, I kinda think you owe me a peak." He winks.

She rolls her eyes and holds her hand up.

"This conversation is over, Noah." She says, but she has a hint of a smile on her face.

So there. Disaster averted.

Just then, her cell phone rings, but she simply looks at the front and then ignores it, putting it back onto the table. His brow furrows.

"You can answer calls at the table, I won't be offended." He tells her.

"Oh, no, that's not it. It's…It's Jeremy." She shrugs.

"Fuckface is still trying to talk to you?" he snaps.

"Noah, we were together for a long time. He's not going to let this ruin our relationship." She says with a nod. "Or at least, he's going to try his hardest not to let it ruin our relationship. He just can't take the hint that I so don't give a shit anymore." She snaps, stabbing a home fry with her fork rather viciously.

He's surprised because A) she swore. And B) since the entire thing happened, this is the first time she's actually seemed angry. "Are you okay?" he asks gently.

She takes a deep breath. "No. I'm…furious." She mutters.

"With him?"

"Somewhat. But mostly with myself. I fooled myself into thinking that despite the obvious pattern in abusive relationships, we could be different. I made myself believe that he truly was sorry, and that he meant it when he said he wouldn't do it again. I'm angry. I'm disappointed. I'm…I'm- fucking crying again!" she says, clearly frustrated to the point of tears. Her fork drops to her plate with a clatter and she puts her head in her hands.

He stands up and walks around to her side of the table, pulling out the chair next to hers and wrapping an arm around her shoulder so he can pull her closer. He cradles her against his chest and she leans into his warmth, so he kisses her forehead. He's glad last night didn't ruin them, make anything awkward.

"It's not your fault, Rach." He whispers into her hair.

"But I feel like it is." She responds, her voice barely there.

"It's not though." He whispers, rubbing her back. "I promise. It's his. He's the fucktard who put his god damn hands on you." He mutters bitterly.

"Then why didn't I leave?" she asks, and her voice is so small and sad, that he pulls her onto his lap. She looks at him, her upper body angled towards him, with her big, sad, brown eyes and it kills him to see her like this.

"Because you were scared." He shrugs. "Because…I wasn't here." He says, and now he's blaming himself again, despite the fact that she doesn't want him to do that.

"Please, Noah, don't." she says softly.

"Face it, Rachel. If I'd been home, you'd have called me and be rid of him when he first hit you." He says, avoiding her eyes. Instead, he stares at the hem of her t-shirt, and he plays with the material for something to do.

"You don't know that." She says, but she doesn't even sound like she believes it herself.

"Yeah, I do actually." He says.

She opens her mouth to speak, but then her phone rings again. He grabs it before she can and he sees that it's Jeremy, so he opens it.

"Hey. We're fucking. Leave her alone." He snaps into the receiver before flipping the phone closed and dropping it back to the table.

She's gaping at him.

"What?" he asks.

"Noah!" she scolds. He smirks.

"What? Maybe this way, he'll get the hint."

She shakes her head at him and stands up, turning around to pick up her plate. He gets a great view of her ass and yeah, he drinks it in.

"You're awful." She says, her tone laced with disapproval.

He chuckles as she leans even further forward to grab his plate too. Damn. He sometimes forgets how perfect of an ass she has. It's almost hard to make himself not reach up and touch it.

"You have no idea." He smirks.

He's helping her with the dishes a few minutes later, when there's a knock at the door.

"I'll get it." He offers. He fucking hates doing the dishes.

He wipes his hands off on his jeans, listening to her tut-tut of disapproval, as he walks towards the front door. He opens it and his blood boils when he sees who it is.

"Just the man I was looking for." Jeremy Johnston says.

"What the fuck do you want, ass hole?" he growls.

"To speak with my girlfriend." Jeremy says, and he looks sort of…scared. Or some shit.

"She's not your fucking girlfriend." Puck spits.

"Who is it, Noah?" Rachel's voice calls from the kitchen.

"It's me!" Jeremy yells into the condo.

There's a clatter of a plate hitting the floor and Rachel runs around the corner, those ridiculous yellow rubber gloves still on her hands.

"Oh…I thought he would have hit you." She says to Jeremy.

"You want me to?" Puck asks, his fist clenching.

"I just want to talk to Rachel." Jeremy says, taking a step back.

"I just want to punch your fucking face in. We don't always get what we want." Puck says, gripping the door knob tightly.

He feels Rachel's hand on his shoulder, minus the gloves which are both in her other hand, and he looks at her. "Noah…I need to speak to him." She nods.

"About what?" he asks, and he is so not happy that she's going to give this ass hole the time of day.

"Noah, please." She says.

He sighs and then looks at Jeremy, who is standing there with wide eyes. "You touch her once, I'm going to break your fucking neck." He says. "And I'm not kidding. Don't fucking push me." He warns before turning and walking around the corner. He wants to be far enough that they can't see him, but he can still hear them.

"Rachel, sweetie, please, take me back," Jeremy croons.

"You are seriously begging me? Jeremy, what you did was morally repugnant on so many levels! Not only were you unfaithful to me, the woman you've said you loved to many different talk show hosts, but you also put your hands on me! I could have easily had you arrested." She says, and Puck could kiss her for standing her ground. Although he's not sure what repugnant means, but it sounds bad.

"Sweetie, please. You know I didn't mean it. And Danielle means nothing to me. I never lied to you. You asked who she was, and I answered!" Fuckface says.

"Don't touch me." She says firmly. "You don't get to touch me ever again, Jeremy."

"Oh, but that neanderthal can put his hands all over you?" he asks, venom in his voice.

She's quiet for a second. "He is my best friend." She says.

"Why the hell did he answer the phone like that earlier then?" he asks.

Puck smirks and nods, and he's pretty sure he hears Rachel giggle.

"Because that's the type of person he is. He was trying to make me feel better."

"About what?" he asks.

"About what? About the fact that I dated a fraud for three years, that's what!" she says, and Puck can tell she's getting fired up.

"I'm not a fraud, sweetheart, I love you! I love you so, so much, and I'm sorry I ever hurt you like I did. I would take anger management, but it would leak to the press, and then rumors would spread like wild fire." He says.

"The fact that you are more concerned for your career than you are me is sort of what worries me." She says, and Puck wants to give her a high five.

"Please." Douchebag scoffs. "I know that you cancelled your rehearsals all week."

"So that people wouldn't ask questions about why I had a black eye and a fat lip. Because, trust me, if they'd asked, I would have told them exactly what happened." She says. Fuck yeah, Puck thinks.

It's quiet for a minute, and he's dying to know what's going on. Is she staring him down? Is he staring her down? What the fuck is happening?

"I love you, Rachel."

"I know."

"Then why-"

"Because I don't need to fool myself into believing that you'll keep your promise again. You already broke it once. Who says it won't happen again?" she asks.

"I say!" he defends.

"And that went so well the first time." She says sarcastically.

More silence.

"This has nothing to do with my broken promise, Rachel." He states.

Now Puck's confused.

"What are you talking about? This has everything to do with your broken promise." She says.

"No, it doesn't. This has everything to do with the way you feel about that…Pucker guy." He says angrily.

"Puckerman. Noah Puckerman." Rachel responds. "And I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit, Rachel. It's so fucking obvious!" he shouts and Puck gets ready to spring into action. "You want him. Like, so much it's pathetic. I've always known. Every time he comes into the room, your panties practically fall off."

"That is incredibly offensive!" she gasps.

"Whatever, it's so true. And I know you like to pretend you didn't, but you definitely said his name when he were having sex once." He says. Puck's ears practically perk up.

"What Noah and I have is completely platonic, Jeremy. He's my best friend, and has been for years! Since before I met you." She reminds him.

"Didn't you say you hooked up with him in high school?" he asks.

"Yes. In high school. Years ago."

"High school flames are the hardest to forget."

"Shut up!" she shouts. "Feelings I may or may not have for Noah aside, what _you_ did was wrong. It has nothing to do with him." She says in calmer voice.

"I love you, Rachel." He repeats.

She doesn't say anything this time.

"And I can take care of you. You won't be on Broadway forever. Eventually, you'll need money."

"I can manage just fine without-"

"What is he? A construction worker?" he snorts.

"He's…a mechanic." She says.

He laughs and Puck's hands ball into fists.

"You think this lifestyle is going to hold up under his income?" he asks her. "Sweetie, come on. I can take care of us. Of you. Of any babies we might have."

"We will never be having babies!" she practically screams, and it makes Puck jump. "Any baby I have will not have a father who is abusive!"

"You're overreacting. I'm not abusive." He says in an undertone.

"You struck me on more than one occasion, giving me a black eye and cutting my lip open. Correct me if I'm wrong, Jeremy, but I think that war-"

Puck freezes when he hears what sounds like a muffled yelp and when he rounds the corner, Jeremy has Rachel's face in his hands and is trying his damndest to kiss her while she tries her damndest to push him away. FUCK. NO.

Before thinking it through, he reaches forward and grabs Rachel's shirt, yanking her backwards roughly, ripping her from Jeremy's grasp. As soon as she's a safe distance away, he grabs Jeremy by the collar of his shirt and throws him to the ground, letting his fists convey how fucking pissed he is that this guy thinks he can kiss Rachel without her permission.

"Noah! Noah, stop it!" Rachel is screaming behind him, but he barely hears her as he punches every inch of Jeremy he can reach.

Jeremy grabs Puck's shirt and yanks him down, rolling over so that now he's on top, and he cracks Puck in the jaw once, and in the eye once before Rachel yanks him backwards by his shirt. "Fucker!" Jeremy screams at Puck.

"You don't fucking touch her!" Puck screams, admiring how Jeremy's bottom lip already swollen, and his nose is bleeding, ruining the fucking designer sweater he's got on.

"Shut the fuck up! Both of you!" Rachel screams, stomping her foot.

Puck gets up and wipes his mouth, noticing that his lip is bleeding, and his eye hurts like a fucking bitch already.

"Jeremy. Get out." Rachel says in a stern voice.

"Why the fuck aren't you kicking him out too?" Jeremy asks as he stands.

"He lives here." She shrugs.

Jeremy looks livid. "No FUCKING way is some god damn grease monkey nea-"

"You don't get an option!" Rachel screams, shoving him roughly, surprising both men. When Jeremy takes a threatening step towards her, Puck grabs his shirt and throws him backwards a few steps.

"Get the hell out." He says, his voice surprisingly calm for how pissed he is.

"You'll be hearing from my attorney." He says.

"And the producers at E! will be hearing from me. I'm sure they'd just love to hear about how JJ's Broadway Babe took a beating from none other than Jeremy himself!" Rachel snaps.

Jeremy stands there and takes a few deep breaths. "Fine. No attorney." He says. "But Rachel, if I leave, we are officially done." He says, looking at her seriously.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out." She says. "Or do. Whatever." She shrugs.

"You'll miss me. The first time this jackhole can't buy you a pair of your god damn boots." He scoffs.

"Goodbye, Jeremy." She says.

He stands there for another few seconds before whipping the door open and stomping out to his BMW.

Puck closes the door and leans against it heavily, looking at Rachel and waiting for the lecture. She stands there silently until the sound of the BMW driving away can be heard, and what she does surprises him.

She jumps into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck and practically strangling him. He's caught off guard at first, but he wraps his arms around her waist and hugs her tightly.

"You're not mad?" he asks.

She laughs slightly. "God, I know I should be furious, but I can't because that…that was the most chivalrous thing anybody has ever done for me." She whispers, her breath on his neck giving him chills.

He smiles though, even though it hurts a little, and hugs her tighter. "I'll always be your knight in shining armor." He whispers, kissing her head softly.

"Good to know." She says with a nod.

"So…you really called out my name when you were fucking that assbag?" he smirks.

She jumps back, and her face is bright red. "We should clean you up." She nods, grabbing his hand and heading towards the kitchen.

"Because if you did, you can tell me." He grins. "It'd be totally hot."

"Shut up, Noah." She says with a sigh.

"Come on, Rachel. We're friends. You can tell me anything." He chuckles.

"You're an idiot. Stop talking." She says as she pushes him to sit down on a bar stool.

He can't help but laugh, but he drops it anyways. For now. She's not going to get off the hook forever.

She comes back towards him with an ice pack (or her homemade version of one) and a damp cloth. She gingerly begins wiping his lip and he can't help but think that one day, she'd make a great mother.

"You ever want to have kids?" he asks her.

She smiles absentmindedly. "Yes. Someday." She nods.

"How many?" he asks.

"I don't know. It would depend on how many my spouse wants." She shrugs, her eyes not moving from his lip as she gently wipes away the dried blood.

"Well, what if he wanted however many you wanted?"

"I want five." She smiles.

"Five? Why so many?"

"I want a big family." She nods.

"What gender?" he asks.

"It doesn't matter to me. As long as they're all healthy." She nods. "But I would like at least one little girl." She says as she wipes at a cut he has above his eye that he didn't even know was there. Fucking Jeremy.

"I don't think your husband could handle that." He smiles.

She giggles. "Why not?"

"Because. Look at you. He'd have to face the fact that someday, that baby girl is going to grow up and have to hold the guys off with a baseball bat." He says.

"Please." She scoffs.

"What?"

"I'm not that…attractive." She says.

He grabs her wrist, stilling her movements and their eyes meet.

"You're beautiful, Rachel." He says, and he means it. From her chestnut locks, to her prying brown eyes, to her shapely lips. She's beautiful.

"Thank you." She says.

He would kiss her if he didn't think it would hurt like a bitch. He's really gotta do something about that.

"Here." She says, offering him the ice pack. "You're going to have one hell of a black eye." She nods, gently pulling her wrist from his grip.

"You should see the other guy." He winks with his good eye.

She smiles and shakes her head at him before taking the wash cloth and heading towards the laundry room. He leans back against the counter as he holds the ice against his eye, and it actually feels really good.

He hears her come back into the kitchen and she takes a deep breath, like she's prepping herself for something.

"What's up?" he asks, opening his other eye to look at her.

"Noah…I think…we should talk." She nodded.

"About?" he asks, his good eyebrow quirking.

She licks her lips and he watches as she wrings her hands nervously. Now he's a little worried.

"Rach. What's wrong?" he asks.

"You and me…we…We kissed last night." She nodded.

"Um…yeah." He says slowly.

"What did it mean to you?" she asks.

He sighs. He hates these kinds of talks. Like, with a passion. He puts the ice pack down and stands, shoving his hands in his pockets as he takes a few steps towards her. He feels like a teenager all over again, trying to sort out what feelings he may or may not have for one Rachel Berry.

She means everything to him, he knows that. But what exactly does everything mean? He brushes his hand through his cropped hair, wishing he still had the mohawk.

"I really care about you, Rachel." He says. "I mean…I can't picture _not_ knowing you. And seeing you all the time. Did you know I moved to New York because of you?" he asks, and he's surprised at himself because she's the only person he's ever told.

Though he knew that Finn and Quinn (who were married and disgustingly in love) totally guessed it when he told them years ago that that's where he was moving. But other than that, nobody knew. He moved here to be closer to her, because he couldn't imagine living miles and miles away from her.

"You did?" she asks, her voice small.

"Yeah. I couldn't…I didn't wanna live far away from you." He shrugs.

"You're my best friend." She states. He nods and his eyes close. For the first time, he hates those words coming out of her mouth.

"I know." He nods, looking at her again. "I'm happy with that." He says.

She's so close to him so quickly that he thinks she's part freaking cheetah or something.

"Tell me how you feel about me, Noah. I'm in a very fragile state right now and if you lie to me, so help me God, I may have to kill you." She whispers, her brown eyes looking up at him pitifully.

He licks his lips. "I don't know, Rachel. I thought…I thought we were friends. But after that fucking…that fucking dick put his hands on you, all I wanted to do was beat him to death." He growls. "I mean it. I would have fucking killed him if you'd let me." He hisses. "And just…thinking of him touching you. Kissing you or holding your hand or…sleeping with you." He mutters. He turns away from her and takes a few steps away from her. "You're everything to me, Rach. That's…That's how I feel." He nods before turning back around.

She's biting her tongue inside her mouth, he can tell, and her eyes are darting around. He knows this look. She's calculating, problem solving, trying to figure something out.

"Will you say it?" she asks suddenly.

"Say what?" he asks, his brow furrowing.

"Everything you just said…in three words." She nods. "I need you to say it." She says, closing her eyes.

He knows what she wants him to say. He nods, knowing that he wants to say it. "I love you, Rachel."

She shivers slightly and then the tiniest of smile creeps up onto her face before she opens her eyes. "I love you too." She says before throwing herself at him again and wrapping her arms around his neck.

He laughs and wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground. She kisses his cheek and nuzzles into his neck and he can't help but feel as if a gigantic weight has been lifted off his chest.

* * *

Okay so...whoa. I never expected to get THIS into this story. But when I started writing this chapter, I couldn't freaking stop! I was like a crack addict or something.

So here's another chapter, and have no fear because another one is in the works.

Oh! And you MUST MUST MUST go read "For Good" by Midwhiff. It's epic. I'm on the first chapter, and I'm already hooked. So review, and then go read that masterpiece! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the fact that they have some weird relationship figured out, he sleeps in his own bed, and she sleeps in hers. And it's his idea. Don't look so surprised. Now that he knows Rachel wants him, and he's accepted that he wants her, it would be way to hard to resist screwing her until they die of exhaustion. That doesn't change the fact, however, that he rubs one off in the comfort of his own bedroom with her right down the hall. It's not the first time he's beat off thinking about Rachel Berry. She used to eat these fucking blowpops all the time and- well, that's a different story.

The next morning, he wakes up to hearing Rachel screaming, so he flies out of bed and throws his door open, running into the kitchen. She's standing there in a silky tank top, and silky shorts to match, her cell phone attached to her ear. And she's jumping up and down, screaming into it. He sighs with relief, leaning against the fridge. She turns around and sees him and her face lights up.

"Denise! Oh my goodness, thank you so, so much! I'll be there! Oh my goodness! I've been dying for this part! You're a godsend!" she squeals, jumping up and down some more, now directing him to the fact that she isn't wearing a bra.

She hangs up the phone and squeals, clapping faster than he thinks he's ever seen her hands move. "I got the part!" she screams.

"What part?" he asks, smiling at her excitement.

"MARIA!" she screeches. "Westside Story! I'm playing Maria!"

He laughs when she throws herself at him, hugging him tightly. "Congrats." He chuckles. "I thought you were being murdered." He says.

She leans back, blushing slightly. "Sorry about that. It's just that I auditioned three weeks ago and haven't heard anything since then, so I assumed that the people holding the auditions were mentally touched for not calling me, but Denise just called and told me that she got a phone call from the play's director and he says that the show cannot go on unless I take the lead part!" she squeals, her voice so high that he's surprised there aren't dogs fighting to get into her house.

"I'm really happy for you." He smiles. He can't help but share in her excitement. It's like watching a little kid on Christmas. "You're gonna do great." He says honestly. "Better than great." He adds.

She smiles up at him and leans forward, kissing his cheek because it must still look like his lip is sore, which it so is.

"The first rehearsal is today, and you have to come!" she urges.

"What time?" he asks.

"Three o'clock!" she nods.

"I have work." He says.

Her face goes from happy to heartbroken so fast he's surprised she's not bipolar.

"But I can call in?" he offers. And then it goes from heartbroken to happy that he's pretty sure she is bipolar.

"You're wonderful." She grins, kissing his cheek again. "I have to go decide what to wear." She nods, pulling away from him and heading towards her bedroom.

"Rachel, it's like, eight. You've got a while."

She turns and stares at him, stunned. "It could very well take me that long." She says before turning around disappearing down the hall.

He chuckles and shakes his head as he follows, going into his room to find his cell phone and call Quentin, his boss, and ask if he can have the day off. Once he explains that his girl just landed the lead in Westside Story, Quentin is totally (and weirdly) cool about it, as long as Puck promises to get him tickets to the premiere. Puck promises that he'll try, and Quentin is satisfied with that.

He makes them breakfast for a change because she's still trying to decide what to wear, but she doesn't even come out when he tells her it's ready. "Rachel. You gotta eat or you'll pass out at rehearsal." He reminds her.

She mutters about color coordination and comfort and patterns and materials and this and that while she eats, totally ignoring him. Even when he says there is a giant spider dangling above her head, she just asks him if he likes indigo or cyan better.

He showers after breakfast, and then as he's headed to his room to put clothes on, she calls his name. Automatically, he tightens the towel around his hips before heading into her room.

"What about- oh." She gasps upon seeing his shirtless, damp form.

And while she's checking him out, he's checking her out.

She's wearing a light blue v-neck that shows off the cleavage she didn't have in high school. And a pair of black shorts that make her legs go on for miles and all he can think about is what she'd look like naked.

"You can't wear that." He states.

She brings her eyes away from his naked chest and looks at his face, her brow furrowing.

"Why not?" she asks.

Shit. He can't very well say that it's because he doesn't want all the guys in the musical to hit on her.

"Dancing…and shit. It'll be…uncomfortable." He sputters unconvincingly.

"We won't be learning choreography today, Noah. I imagine we will just be getting acquainted with each other." She says with a nod before her eyes fall back to his chest. "Um…but you think I should wear something else?" she asks.

"Yeah." He nods. "Too casual."

"It's not exactly a cocktail dinner." She says, turning around and walking into her closet.

He follows, leaning against the door frame, his eyes glued to her ass in those tiny shorts of hers. "Wear jeans." He suggests. "Nice ones, no holes." He adds.

"Please, like I would ever even think of purchasing pants with tears in them." She scoffs, heading towards a section that looks like all jeans. "Perhaps these?" she asks, pulling out a pair of dark wash skinny jeans.

He nods. "Yeah. Those'll look good." He says.

Her hand goes to the button on her shorts and he turns to leave.

"No! Don't go, I need your opinion." She says and when he turns back, the button and zipper are undone, and he can see that she's wearing light blue panties. His cock hardens and he bites his lips, shaking his head.

"If I watch you take those off, I might come unglued." He says, his eyes glued to the light blue material.

"Oh." She says, and he's pretty sure she's probably blushing, but he doesn't want to take his eyes away from her underwear long enough to look. "Okay, well…can you give me a second then?" she asks.

He nods. "I gotta go get dressed, I'll be right back." He says before leaving the room and heading to his.

He pulls out a pair of khaki shorts and a wife beater, knowing that she's probably going to make him change before rehearsal anyways. When he walks back into her room, his eyes practically pop out of his head because she's wearing the jeans, but bending over with her perfect little ass in the air as she is snipping at a loose thread at the ankle of her jeans.

She stands up and turns around, smiling at him. "Better?" she asks.

"Is it possible for you to wear something and not look so…so…" he struggles to find the right word.

"So...what?" she asks, her brow furrowing.

"Completely fuckable." He finally decides.

"Noah!" she gasps.

He laughs at her shocked expression. "I'm sorry! I'm just…being honest." He shrugs.

She shakes her head at him. "I want your opinion on this shirt, so if you can manage to be in the same room as me without letting your hormones take over, that would be lovely." She says with a nod as she walks back into her closet. He follows, leaning against the door frame again.

He watches as she stands with her back to him, pulling the shirt off. Luckily, she's wearing a tank top because the sight of her in her bra just might have been too much for him. She grabs a long sleeved, dark purple top and puts that on, turning back around. She still looked sexy as hell, but not as much of her cleavage was showing, so he supposed she could leave the house.

"You look gorgeous." He smiles with a nod. She beams at him.

"Thank you." She says before approaching him and kissing him on the cheek softly. "Now, about your outfit…"

They spend the next few hours discussing his attire. She is _so_ not going to roll up to Westside Story rehearsals with a guy wearing a wife beater, and he is _so_ not wearing that thing that she calls an ascot. Not even when she threatens to strangle him with it. He threatens to move out when she holds up a pastel pink dress shirt that used to be Jeremy's, and she threatens to kick him out when he offers to wear camo.

Eventually, they finally agree on something.

He's standing in front of her bedroom mirror wearing his nicest pair of jeans, and a dark grey, long sleeved shirt that he totally forgot he had. He doesn't think he looks too shabby, and neither does she apparently.

"You look great, Noah." She smiles at him. "Of course, the shirt isn't necessarily my first choice, bu-"

"I don't do pink, Rachel, so don't even say it." He says, holding up a finger.

She huffs. "Lots of men wear pink." She nods.

"Lots of men kiss men too. Doesn't mean I'm jumping on that band wagon." He says.

She rolls her eyes. "Why can't you be comfortable with your sexuality?" she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I _am_ comfortable with my sexuality. I don't plan on changing it any time soon. Hence, no pink shirt." He says, turning around to face her.

She gapes. "I have two gay dads, so that is very offensive, Noah Puckerman!" she snaps, and he realizes that she's serious and that he's an idiot when she stomps away towards the kitchen. He sighs. Who was he to think that living with Rachel Berry would be easy?

He follows her, seeing that she's chopping up some celery like she's got a personal vendetta against it or something. He gets an idea and smirks, coming up behind her and putting his hands on her hips. He nuzzles into her hair slightly before he kisses her neck. He remembers that when they dated in high school for that short time, she always went gaga when he kissed her neck.

The chopping stops immediately and her hands still as he continues to kiss her neck, moving up to the spot right below her ear. When he kisses right there, she shivers slightly and he thinks, _Jackpot_.

"What are you doing?" she asks him quietly, her voice faltering slightly when his hands slide around her waist and pull her against him.

"Kissing you," he breathes, giving her the chills. He slides on hand up under the hem of her shirt, sliding his finger across where her jeans start, making her whimper softly. "But if you want me to stop…" he offers, loosening his hold.

He smirks when she grabs his arms and shakes her head. "No…don't stop." She whispers. "It feels good." She nods.

He lets his tongue slip out, gliding across her ear lobe, and he grins when she whimpers again, her grip on his forearms tightening.

And then her fucking cell phone rings, making them both jump. What the fuck kinda devil is calling right now to be a gigantic cock block? He backs up while she reaches into her back pocket and flips it open, holding it to her ear.

"Hello?" she asks.

He stands there, leaning against the fridge while she takes the call.

"Um, I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong number." She says uncertainly. "No, there is no one here by the name of Ruby. Sorry, sir." She says before hanging up and turning around.

He jus got cock blocked by a wrong fucking number? Unbelievable.

"Where were we?" he smirks, walking towards her. She smiles and puts her hand on his chest to stop him.

"_I_ was just making lunch." She tells him. "Would you mind getting stuff for sandwiches?" she asks, gesturing to the fridge.

He grumbles, and she giggles, as he heads towards the fridge and opens it. He pulls out mayonnaise, cheese, lettuce, and turkey and then his brow furrows. "Rachel?" he asks.

"Yes?"

"How do you figure you've got enough stuff in here to make a sandwich that's vegan friendly?" he asks.

"Oh, the sandwich is for you. I'm making salad to go with it, but I assumed you would want more than that considering when I tried to make a salad for lunch last week you told me you weren't eating 'any damn leaves because that's what food eats.'" She giggles.

He smiles and nods. "You're right." He says. "I'll make myself a sandwich." He nods. She smiles and nods in return before turning back around and fixing herself some salad.

By the time two thirty rolls around, he can't believe she hasn't wet herself with how excited she is. She practically drags him out the door to get into her little PT Cruiser so that they can drive to the theater. He's loving how excited she is, he's not sure why. It just makes him happy to see her this happy. He doesn't care how much he sounds like a pussy thinking that.

They get to the rehearsal and meet the cast, and Rachel seems pleased with everyone, and he's pleased with how the guys don't ogle her too much. Though they haven't named anything official, he's still thinking he's got some sort of claim over her that nobody is about to mess with.

Over the next few weeks, she drags him to every rehearsal possible and pouts everytime he says that he has to work, or that he's made plans with the guys, or whatever other reason he has for not going. Truth is, he loves watching her perform, but he can't stand watching Rupert Cartella, the guy playing Tony, put his hands on her and kiss her, even if it is just acting.

He's surprised at how quickly he and Rachel fall into a comfortable pattern. They still sleep separately, and at this point have only had a few mild groping sessions on the couch, and he doesn't think he's ever gone this long without screwing a girl, but he can handle it because he really does care about he. He knows she's not a virgin (Thank you, Finn) but sex is still a huge deal to her, and she wants to take things slow. And he's willing to wait as long as she wants.

Damn. Where the fuck is his man card?

A few months later, he's backstage with her at the premiere of Westside Story and she's giddy with excitement.

"Noah, I can't believe it! It's a full house out there! Did you see?" she asks, squeezing his arm.

"Yeah, baby. They're all here to see you." He smiles, kissing her temple.

She smiles up at him, her hands wringing nervously as she waits for the lights to dim. When they do, she jumps into the air and then is as still as he's ever seen her as they watch from backstage.

He's not even watching the musical anymore because he's seen them perform at rehearsal hundreds of times, and he knows the whole thing by heart. Choreography, script, lyrics. He's pretty sure he could recite it in his sleep.

But now he's watching her. Her eyes are on fire as she waits for her queue to go on stage for the first time as Maria, in front of all these people. She's wearing an ugly yellow dress with some orange thing over it, but even she manages to look gorgeous in it. He loves her. So much it hurts.

"Rachel." He whispers.

"What?" she whispers back, not taking her eyes off the stage.

"Marry me." He tells her.

She rolls her eyes and smiles a bit. "Whatever you say, Noah." She jokes.

"I'm serious." He whispers, stepping closer to her. "I want us to get married. I don't want to be away from you, ever. I love you, Rachel. Marry me." He tells her again.

She looks up at him, all big brown eyes and long eye lashes and she sort of looks like she's about to cry.

"Really?" she asks.

He nods. "Yeah." He wouldn't joke about this shit.

"Absolutely!" she grins, throwing her arms around him again. She kisses him and he lifts her into the air, holding her tightly against him as she places frantic kisses all over her face.

"Rachel! What the hell? That's your queue! Go, go, go!" Amanda, one of the stage people, urges, shoving Rachel towards the stage. Rachel throws one last smile in his direction before going out on stage and delivering her lines in utter perfection.

Amanda, however, is glaring fiercely at him.

"What?" he asks innocently.

"Opening night is not the time for proposals, Noah!" she scolds. He chuckles. "Congrats though." She adds before walking away.

He grins and looks back onto the stage where Rachel is giving the performance of a lifetime. He never takes his eyes off her, and when she comes off stage, she jumps back into his arm, kissing him again. They spend the rest of the musical like this, despite the fact that Amanda sort of looks like she's going to kill him, but Rachel doesn't miss another queue, so the tiny red head can't bitch too much.

When the musical is over, he watches as Rachel goes onto the stage and curtsies before blowing a kiss to the applauding audience, who are all on their feet by the way. He's so proud of her that he can't stop fucking smiling like an idiot, but he doesn't care. She runs off stage and into his arms again.

They're at the cast party later when someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns around to see Finn Hudson and a very pregnant Quinn Fabray-Hudson standing there grinning at them.

"You guys came!" Rachel screamed, throwing her arms around Finn's neck. He laughs and hugs her back before she gently hugs Quinn.

"You were awesome, Rach." Finn says.

"Phenomenal!" Quinn agrees with a pretty smile.

"Wasn't she?" Puck asks, pulling Rachel tight against his side and kissing the side of her head.

Quinn and Finn exchange a look and then smile at the couple. "There's some people outside that they wouldn't let in, but they really want to see you." Quinn says.

"Oh, okay!" Rachel nods, already eager to meet more and more of her devoted fans.

But when she gets outside, it's not admiring strangers standing out there to meet her, it's very familiar faces that she hasn't seen in way, way too long.

"Oh my God!" she screams upon seeing the rest of the glee club, including Mr. Schuester.

"We got the e-mail about you playing Maria and then Quinn made it pretty clear that if we didn't come, she'd kill us all." Mercedes laughed as Rachel hugged her.

Rachel went around hugging them all and then convinced them that she was definitely ditching the cast party to spend some time with her old friends, and they somehow managed to pile into three cars, all of them following Rachel and Puck in her PT Cruiser.

"Did you know about this?" she asks as they drive to her condo.

"No! I haven't even talked to Quinn lately. Last time I heard from her, she wasn't pregnant." He laughs.

"This is incredible! I can't even begin to describe how wonderful this is, Noah!" she grins from ear to ear.

Finally, they arrive and the ex-Glee club piles into her condo, and into the living room. Puck leaves for a few minutes and then returns with junk food and beer and it's so much like high school that he has to remind himself he's twenty-eight now, not eighteen. And this time around, he's got something infinitely more precious than a football under his arm.

"Alright, so you must spill." Kurt demands. "What is going on with you two?" he asks, his eyes never missing the way Rachel and Puck were somehow touching each other at all points in the evening.

Rachel smiles up at Puck and he smiles down at her before looking towards the rest of the glee club. Most of them aren't paying attention, too busy talking and catching up with each other, or crooning over Quinn's swollen belly, so he stands up and clears his throat loudly.

"I just wanna tell you all something." He nods. He's pretty sure he hears Brittany whisper something about Rachel being pregnant, but he ignores it. He grins from ear to ear as he runs over what he's going to say in his head. "Rachel and I are getting married, and you're all invited."

* * *

Okay, so normally this would be a nice place to end it, but I'm NOT normal. And there is no smut, so what the hell kinda Puckleberry fanfiction of mine would that be?

I already know how I'm going to end it, but there very well may be an epilogue. I haven't decided on that bit yet. What do you guys think? I'm going to start working on the next (and most likely last) chapter when I get home from the movies in a few hours. Let me know how you feel about an epilogue, and about this chapter? :) You guys keep me going, no joke. I love your reviews!


	5. Chapter 5

After massive amounts of congratulations and screaming and asking how he proposed and when the wedding would be and this and that, the excitement finally dies down. Quinn is automatically picked as a designated driver, as are Finn and Mr. Shuester, so while everyone else drinks and has a grand ole time, those three watch and laugh as their friends make asses of themselves.

And make asses of themselves they do.

Matt and Mike are watching some music video channel and trying their damndest to sing and dance along (horribly). Brittany and Santana (who finally admitted that they had a relationship shortly after graduation) are sitting together in the arm chair giving each other googly eyes and giggling at whatever the other one says. Mercedes and Kurt are practicing their poses, for what nobody knows, but they look like deranged models over in the corner of the living room. Tina is sitting on Artie's lap with a beer in her hand and by the look on her face, she's trying her hardest not to jump him on the spot.

And Puck is sitting with Rachel on his lap, whispering dirty things into her ear that are making her blush and giggle and slap him on the shoulder lightly. Chances are, if she hadn't had three and a half beers, she'd be scolding him for speaking so inappropriately.

Puck's only had two beers, and it takes much, much more than that for him to get drunk, but he's feeling happy and light, but he thinks that's more Rachel-induced than it is alcohol induced.

When he whispers that she looks sexy in her backless, black dress (which she so does), she giggles and leans in to whisper to him.

"Stop it or you'll make me do something very inappropriate in front of our friends." She giggles.

It's right about then that he decides it's getting a little late, and that the star needs her rest. He announces this and everyone boos, but moves to leave.

"Congratulations, you guys." Mr. Schuester says, clapping Puck on the shoulder. "And Rachel, I always knew you could do it." He smiles before hugging her gently.

"Thanks, Mr. Shuester." She says with a grin.

"You can call me Will now, you know that right?" he asks.

Puck and Rachel exchange a look and then shake their heads. "Too weird." Puck laughs.

Mr. Schuester just laughs and shrugs in response as he helps lead a tipsy Tina out the door, Artie rolling behind them.

"Congrats, you two!" Santana squeals, pulling them both into a hug at the same time. "I expect an invite!" she says, nodding seriously.

"For sure." Puck laughs.

"You're one lucky bitch, Berry." Santana smiles at the other woman. Rachel smiles up at Noah.

"I know." She nods.

"No, I mean, the things this man can do with his tounge-"

"Good night, _Santana_." Puck says loudly as Rachel blushes crimson.

"Happy being engaged!" Brittany giggles as she files out the door behind her girlfriend.

"Congrats, bro!" Mike says, hugging Puck. "You too, Rachel." He adds.

"Gotta say, totally saw it coming though." Matt says with a shrug.

Rachel giggles. "Thank you guys. And thanks so much for coming tonight!" she adds with a grin.

"No problem. We know that you've had a deep connection with Maria or whatever." Matt laughs.

Rachel giggles and nods as they leave and then Kurt and Mercedes follow, saying their goodbyes and congratulations, and then that leaves Finn and Quinn, walking around and picking up beer bottles and chip bags.

"You guys, stop it. This is my condo, I think I can manage to clean it without putting my guests to work." Rachel says, walking towards them and taking the bottles out of Quinn's arms.

"It was really, really good seeing you." She tells Rachel suddenly. "I mean…We should do this more often. A lot more often." She nods and there's tears in the blonde's eyes.

"I agree. I miss you guys." Rachel smiles up at Finn and even though it's been years since there was any emotion there, Puck can't help but feel a tug of jealousy. He doesn't say anything, simply walks up and wraps an arm around Rachel's shoulders.

"We gotta get going though, because I don't trust a single one of them behind the wheel right now." Quinn laughs.

"Of course. It was great seeing you. Have a safe trip back to the hotel." Rachel nods.

Finn and Quinn say their goodbyes before exiting and Puck can't help but be happy that he and Rachel are finally alone, even if it was really nice to get to see their friends.

She bends over to pick up a stray chip bag and he bites his lip, wondering if she's trying to make him come in his pants. Before she can stand fully, he puts himself directly behind her and pulls her hips back towards him, making her gasp.

"Noah!" she says, standing up straight but not turning around.

He wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her bare shoulder. "What?" he asks innocently. He reaches up and pushes her hair to the side so he can kiss her neck and she hums appreciatively.

"You were so great tonight, baby." He whispers against the crook of her neck.

"Thank you." She whispers.

He slides his hands up her stomach, right below her breasts, and then he nips softly at her neck, making her whimper. He's getting hard already, and she hasn't even touched him yet.

"I love you." He whispers against her skin, making her shiver.

"I love you too." She breathes, her head leaning back against his shoulder to give him better access to her neck. He groans now because he can see down the front of her dress and he really wants to run his tongue along the valley between her breasts, but just because they're engaged, doesn't mean she suddenly wants him to jump her bones.

"Rachel." He says, and his voice is huskier than normal.

"Yes?" she says.

"I…" he starts, but he doesn't know how to say what he's thinking. He pulls her back against him so she can feel his erection against her. "I want you." He says.

She groans softly before turning around and wrapping her arms around his neck. She looks up at him and smiles the sexiest, naughtiest smile he's ever seen on her face. "I'm interested to see what Santana was talking about." She says before she darts towards her bedroom, throwing him an impish smile over her shoulder.

He groans and follows her down the hall and into her room and when he gets in there, she's already taking her dress off, but she's facing away from him, so he takes the time to admire her body as she unzips the side zipper and then slips the spaghetti straps down her arms before letting the entire thing fall down. And holy shit. She's not wearing a bra.

He can't sit there and watch anymore, so he goes forward, pulling her against his chest before and listening to her gasp again. He licks and kisses and nibbles the flesh of her shoulder and neck and his hands slide up over her flat stomach and this time, he holds her breasts in his hands, making them both groan.

He turns her around and picks her up around her waist, and her legs wrap around his hips as he carries her to her bed. He lays her down softly and then sits up on his knees to take off the black button up he wore to the premiere. Looking down at her topless form makes him even harder, so he practically rips the wife beater he's got on in order to get it off as quickly as possible.

Once he's completely shirtless, he leans down and kisses her lips, letting his chest brush against hers and making her whimper slightly. God, she's so fucking hot. He leans on his left elbow and his right hand cups her breast softly while he gently bites her bottom lip. She pulls her lips away from his and gasps, arching into his touch.

"Noah," she moans softly. He runs his thumb over her nipple and then flicks the hardened peak. "Noah, stop…stop teasing." She whimpers.

He smirks as he kisses a trail over her jaw, down her neck, and across her collar bone until he gets to her breasts. While he flicks and gropes one, he latches his mouth onto the other, making her cry out. "Oh, Noah!" she breathes as his tongue circles the tiny bud. He sees her hands fisted in the covers and he smirks. She hasn't seen anything yet.

He goes further down, peppering her stomach with kisses until he gets to her black panties. And ladies and gentlemen, in his opinion, there is nothing sexier than Rachel Berry in black panties. He hooks his fingers in the waist band and pulls them down, smiling when she lifts her hips to help him. He pulls them the rest of the way down her legs and then tosses them to the side before slowly kissing up her shins and thighs.

"You're so sexy, baby." He groans, dragging her down so that her cunt is level with his mouth. He slides a finger inside her and her hips buck up involuntarily and she moans.

"Noah! Please!"

He smirks slightly before pushing her folds apart and slipping his tongue inside of her. She practically screams and her feels her hand on the back of his head, keeping him exactly where he is. He dips his tongue in and out of her quickly, making her moan and writhe beneath him.

He runs his tongue up her slit before landing on the tiny bundle of nerves. He flicks at the small nub and she curses above him, making him groan, and therefore in turn making her gasp at the vibrations. He captures the tiny bud in his mouth and sucks while he slides two fingers inside her and pumps quickly.

"God! Noah! Oh, yes, yes!" she moans. "Noah…oh, fu…gah…mmm!" she cries, becoming less and less coherent the closer he gets her to an orgasm.

He curls his two fingers inside and she fucking loses it.

He feels her cunt tightening around his fingers and he groans as he wishes he would have just fucked her instead of done this first. Her back arches off the bed and her toes curl and he finger fucks her until the shudders in her body subside. He pulls his fingers out and pulls his mouth away from her clit before crawling back up the bed to look at her face. She looks like she's in heaven.

"Oh…my…God." She says after a minute, her breathing still not completely back to normal. He smirks. "If I'd known…you could do that…I'd have jumped you…a long time ago." She pants.

He chuckles and nuzzles into her neck. "You don't know the half of it, baby."

At this point, his dick is so hard that it's straining against the fabric of his boxers and pants, so he reaches down and unzips himself, pushing both articles of clothing down. He hisses when the waist band slides over his dick. He has half a mind to start jacking off right there. He looks over at her to tell her to climb on, but she is already moving, so he stops, wondering where this is going to go.

She kneels between his legs and is smiling mischievously at him and he groans.

"You'll be the death of me." He says softly. She giggles in response before reaching up and taking him in her small hand. "Rachel!" he groans, his eyes closing tightly.

He reminds himself not to get too excited, because he wants to be buried deep inside her when he comes. That nearly gets thrown out the window when she leans down and takes him in her mouth.

"My _fuck_!" he shouts, even though it makes no sense at all. He looks down and sees that her eyes are closed while her pretty, pouty lips slide up and down around his cock and it's like, impossible not to come right there. He reaches down, his hand fisting in her hair. When she groans, his eyes roll into the back of his head because it's the hottest thing in the world to have Rachel Berry groan with your cock in her mouth.

He looks down when she shifts her position slightly and then her head bobs further down and he feels his head hit the back of her throat. "Holyfuckholyfuck! Holy. Fuck!" he shouts, his head falling back against the bed.

Fucking A, she's good. He's pretending that she didn't learn how to do this from other guys, and instead he just pretends that she's a fucking natural when it comes to sucking his cock and _his_ cock only.

He wants, desperately, to come but he knows that he can't. He gently pulls her head up and he whimpers when his dick slips out of her mouth. She looks up at him, a confused expression.

"I need to fuck you." He says and she bites her bottom lip, her eyes fluttering slightly at his words.

She pushes him back down and then turns to face away from him before straddling his hips. Puck groans as she reaches between her legs to grab his dick and position him at her entrance. "Fuck yeah, baby." He groans.

And then she slides down, gasping as his cock fills her to the brim. He lets out a stream of obscenities that she'd scold him for in a normal situation.

"God, Noah, you feel…so good." She moans as she begins rolling her hips and riding him hard.

"You're so tight, Rachel," he groans. "So fucking good."

He wants to feel her against him though. He stills her hips and pushes her up far enough that he can slide out and pull his legs out from underneath her. He pushes her legs together and she groans impatiently when he bends her over so she's on her knees. He nearly blows his load upon seeing her with her ass in the air, but he controls himself as he slowly, painfully so, enters her from behind.

"Ohhh, yes!" Rachel moans slowly.

He thrusts into her and picks up speed, listening to flesh hit flesh as he fucks her from behind, and it's the hottest fucking thing in the world. Next to watching her suck him off, that is. He reaches forward and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her up so that her back is against his chest. He grabs a fist full of her hair and pulls her head back so that he can kiss her neck. He leaves a hickey the size of a silver dollar right below her ear and it's so fucking hot to see that he marked her.

"Yes, Noah, God!" she moans as he thrusts in and out of her mercilessly.

He's going to come soon. He knows it. "Rachel, baby," he groans. "I need you to come for me," he orders.

Rachel just moans in response and he picks up speed as he squeezes one of her breasts and then lightly pinches her nipple.

"Noah…I…oh, God…Noah…" she cries.

"That's it, baby. Come for me, come nice and fucking hard." He grunts, slamming into her sweet cunt.

She has one hand on the back of his neck, and one hand on the arm that's wrapped around her waist to keep her against him, and her fingernails dig into his flesh, but he doesn't care because he can tell that she's about to lose it.

"Fuck, Noah!" she sobs, and he can't hold back anymore. He loses it, grunting as he releases deep inside of her, and she follows almost immediately after, her mouth forming an 'O' as she comes hard and fast around his cock.

They collapse onto their sides, her still firmly pinned against him, and all that can be heard for a few minutes is them breathing unevenly. His heart his pounding in his chest, and he can feel hers as well. He's surprised they didn't give themselves heart attacks.

And somehow, he's still hard inside her.

He runs his hand down her side to her hip and slowly pulls himself most of the way out before just as slowly sliding back in.

She whimpers.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Slow," she nods.

He slides back into her again and she whimpers, shifting slightly to give him a better angle. He's biting his bottom lip to keep from pounding into her as fast and hard as he can, but even just this feels so, so fucking good.

"Oh, yes," she sighs softly.

"You feel so good, baby." He whispers into her hair and she whimpers.

He keeps going like that for another minute and then she cries out loudly and he feels her cunt spasm around him for the second time and he smirks.

"Did you just-"

"Yeah." She gasps breathlessly. "You're a God."

He smirks and then slides out of her completely because she's probably way too sensitive to keep going right now, and he's softening anyways, knowing that he couldn't come again right now if he tried.

She rolls over and tucks herself against his side.

"That was explosive." She tells him, looking up at him.

"Yeah, it really was." He agrees with a nod. He leans down slightly and kisses her lips and he can feel her smiling. "I love you." He murmurs, his lips brushing against hers.

"I love you too." She whispers back.

"I think I'll sleep in your room tonight." He tells her with a smile. No fuckin' way is he walking back to his bedroom now.

"That's a requirement." She giggles.

He kisses her forehead before he somehow manages to pull her blanket out from underneath them and lay it on top of them. She snuggles closer and he tightens his hold on her and he wonders how he got to be the luckiest motherfucker on the planet.

* * *

The first part of this chapter is mostly just a bunch of bologna that really has no point, except I just wanted to mention more of the rest of Glee, haha.

And despite what I thought, this isn't the last chapter because there's one more thing I want to happen before the epilogue. That is, if you guys are still loving it?


End file.
